


Lessening

by VicarLaurence



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dark Magic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Poison, what are these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicarLaurence/pseuds/VicarLaurence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Pan is dying, Neverland’s magic is fading, and Felix is too damn stubborn to give up on it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessening

He always assumed death would be something else. But the sickly paleness and tired lines etched on Pan’s face told another story – one that evoked something in Felix that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

_Fear._

Neverland itself seemed to respond the same way; plants were beginning to wilt and shrivel, animals were perishing left and right, weather started becoming frenzied and violent. It was like the whole essence of the island was seeping away, bleeding out on itself. The rest of the Lost Boys were well aware of the conundrum at hand, and they’d been working tirelessly to find something, anything that would spare Pan from being ripped out of existence. So far, nothing. But if there was one thing Felix had learned in the many, many years he’d been a Lost Boy, it was that _Pan never failed._

Now, pinpointing the source of Pan’s foreboding demise had been a challenge in itself. The boy hardly let anyone near him, including Felix, but when he caved – and he _did_ – the problem had been reduced quickly to dreamshade. It had just been a rumour at first – that the leader was going to be downed by his own fighting mechanism. And how ironic it would’ve been. But Felix, concerned about Pan’s well-being (and set on shutting those rumours down once and for all) decided to take matters into his own hands, to decipher whatever it was that ailed his companion. 

The results were less than fortunate, really. Based on the blackening gash Pan had somehow procured, suppurate and festering, Felix assumed he’d been nicked in the heat of battle by an arrowhead or blade laced with the poison. It was clear to him that Pan was trying to disguise the wound; among the dark veins of poison that snaked out from the site of the wound were the remains of herbal remedies and solutions, Pan’s hopeless effort to save himself. Felix chided him briefly on the seriousness of the situation and how he had to stop playing high-and-mighty, or risk dying sooner than need be. ( _The audacity,_ Pan thought; since when did Felix brave up enough to be condescending towards him?)

But in the end, _begrudgingly,_ of course, Pan accepted the offer of assistance from the other boy.

\--------------------------------------- 

They didn’t trek back into camp with one another like Felix figured they would. Pan seemed insistent on continuing to walk through the undergrowth, with Felix leading the way for the sake of swatting decaying plants aside. Pan duly noted that the Lost Boy’s steps were firm and deliberate now, unlike the wary, clumsy boy Felix had been before. He started to wonder then – when had Felix become so accustomed to the land that _he_ could lead Pan around, knowing where they were headed without even having to utter a single word? Had it been a couple decades after his arrival to Neverland? Or maybe it was sooner than that, around the time the Lost Boys were settling in and constructing their camps. 

Whatever it was, Pan couldn’t afford to dwell on such things. The urgency of his dilemma was growing more apparent by the second; he could feel the dreamshade eating its way further through his veins, polluting his blood until it was thin and overrun with toxicity. 

He scoffed at himself. _Dreamshade._ It burned like no other sensation he’d had the displeasure of acquainting himself with, a cool fire bubbling under his skin. Pan couldn’t say he was exactly pleased with the situation, but at least he’d managed to keep everything under tabs up until the point that Felix got nosy and had to poke around where he didn’t belong. 

Felix, Felix. Pan could’ve sworn he had more loyalty burned into him than any other living thing on the face of the earth. Perhaps that loyalty came with a bothersome habit of watching over Pan, vying to be within his sight and bringing it upon himself to take care of whatever it was that the magical boy desired. Even with Felix being his favourite Lost Boy, Pan didn’t enjoy the subtle caretaker undertone that he’d adopted. 

A dour expression flicked over his face. Up ahead, Felix had paused, the blunt end of his club pressed stiff against Pan’s collar as if to halt him from moving further on. 

“What’re you on about, Felix?” 

No response came from the Lost Boy. Silence enveloped the two again; Pan was considering the wisdom of snatching Felix’s weapon and demanding answers, sizing up the gangly teen. Felix, oblivious, kept his grey eyes skirting around the outcropping, searching for anomalies with a terrifyingly quick calculation. 

“Felix, I _swear_ —”

_“Rogue shadow,”_ he finally uttered, tone hushed. He lowered his club back to his side then, ushering Pan forward with a curt flick of his wrist. Naturally, Pan scowled as he sauntered up to stand beside the Lost Boy. _Felix playing leader._ He shook his head in a discerning sort of way. _What a farce._

“Rogue shadow? That’s never stopped you before,” Pan remarked. 

Felix had a thoughtful look on his face for a moment, and if Pan hadn’t glanced so quickly, he might’ve been able to catch the instant in which the corners of Felix’s mouth upturned in a smile. 

“You’re right. And I don’t intend to let it.” He straightened up his posture, brandishing his club as he did so. “Do you know why?” 

Pan gave a roll of his eyes. “Enlighten me.” 

“Simple. Pan never fails,” he replied, flicking an eyebrow up at the sultry look the magical boy had adopted, “and as of this moment, neither do I. We need to keep moving.” 

“Couldn’t agree more.” Pan nudged Felix onwards with his shoulder, sick of waiting around in the outcropping for the shadow to find them and rip them into oblivion. At least the taller boy toted a weapon along with him – if not, Pan wasn’t sure his magic would be up to par with that of the shadow’s, what with the dreamshade sapping his strength. 

So he returned again to tailing Felix through the underbrush, ducking past unruly branches of bracken and strangler vines that had meandered down from the trees. (He remembered those well; one of the newer Lost Boys had gotten carelessly tangled among them and had his throat crushed in the quick instant that followed). As Felix cut a path through the overgrown foliage, Pan found himself torn between either smiling or scowling, comfort or irritation; maybe both. Had he not been poisoned, surely he wouldn’t have needed to depend on Felix in such a way that made him seem weak or, _god forbid,_ helpless. He was Peter-freaking-Pan, for crying out loud. He needed no one. 

It was stupid, really. Relying on Felix. 

“It’s here,” the blond boy muttered, not needing to relay the information concerning the shadow’s whereabouts. He’d gathered plenty of knowledge about Pan in the years they’d known one another, one such fact being that, unquestionably, Pan was clever. Clever, smart, witty; it all applied to the boy, and thus it wasn’t necessary for him to insult Pan’s intelligence by pointing out the obvious threat lurking above them. 

“Good. You know how to kill a shadow?” 

Felix just shook his head, an understood _no._ Frankly, he’d never fought against a shadow in the first place, nor did he possess the knowledge on how to kill one. Perhaps that was because the situation had never presented itself; thus, the skill was virtually meaningless. Could shadows _be_ killed, anyway? 

Heaving a lofty sigh, Felix forced the thought out of his mind. _This was for Pan._ It didn’t matter if he couldn’t kill the shadow, so long as he could manage to subdue it for a spell. 

Overhead, the shadow loosed an earsplitting howl. It baulked a moment before dissolving into a black mist, rushing downwards at the figures below like a massive bird of prey. Felix had been expecting it, really; he made a quick sidestep to dodge the oncoming whirlwind, keeping himself between Pan and the shadow all the while. He’d be damned if he let anyone harm his leader. 

Soon enough, the shadow doubled back and took another stab at them. Felix countered it with ease, tearing through the creature’s torso with a blunt swing of his weapon. And while it was a great shot, one that should’ve killed any regular foe, the shadow only shrieked louder with rage.

_“Shit,”_ he hissed, eyebrows knit in frustration. Did this thing not have a weakness? Fire, maybe. He knew he had a piece of flint in his pocket; he could feel its weight pulling on his cloak, but he needed something to strike it on – steel of some sort, though he had none. Meanwhile, the shadow had gotten its bearings back now, lashing out at Felix with pulsating veins of dark energy as he circled around the clearing. 

“Well, now, you’re not playing the game very well, are you? That’s such a _bore,_ Felix,” Pan chided as he mirrored the taller male’s footsteps. “Bad form.” 

“Perhaps.” For a split second, Felix turned back to grin at Pan – the same split second where the shadow perked up, channeling its magic into a whirlwind, ripping away trees, plants, shrubbery... _anything,_ really, and of course adding them to its cylindrical menace. 

Oh, damn it all to hell. How was he to counter _that?_ He didn’t want to fall short, truly. Letting Pan down was one of his top concerns, and he figured he’d be easily replaceable should he fail. After all, with genetics betraying him, Felix was vastly different from the other Lost Boys – that is, he didn’t have a drop of magical blood in him. Initially, he’d only been able to work around his weakness because none of the other boys could put their magic to use, but—

This was different. _He needed magic._ Despite the oh-so lovely brutality of his weapon, it would be nothing but a thorn in the shadow’s side, something that would be swatted away within seconds as if it were never there. God, he had to think; had to come up with a strategy and _fast,_ something that could take the shadow down—

_“Come on Felix. Play the game,”_ came Pan’s whisper, and he felt a cool metal pressing into the palm of his hand from behind. “You can do it. _Win.”_

Of course. Win. Win for Pan. He knew he could – after all, the pieces to victory were gathered now. Felix produced a mess of kindling from his pocket and struck the flint upon his newfound weapon, showering sparks across the tinder. He fumbled around with it at first, not able to get an ignition, but after a few failed tries the bundle finally caught fire. It was a horrible idea, a ridiculous, stupid idea, but he knew he had to play Pan’s game one way or another. So, he drew his left arm back and wound up, snapping forward with all the strength he could muster as he sent the smouldering mess directly at the shadow. 

A horrendous caterwaul was elicited from the creature as the flames licked over its body. Perhaps that had injured it, if such a thing was possible – and based on Pan’s intensifying laughter, indeed it was. Unfortunately, however, the cyclone of debris that the shadow had summoned up was still an obstruction, one that came crashing down like a wave breaking on shore. Bracken and sharp slivers of bark battered the two, but only until Pan threw up a quick protection spell. Though weakened, it seemed that he still had magic enough to employ shields ( _which would’ve been a hell of a lot more useful before,_ Felix thought bitterly). 

“See, _that’s_ how you play the game. Well done,” Pan remarked, flashing a cheeky smile in Felix’s direction. As much as the Lost Boy idolized Pan, he wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. Not that he was being _completely_ irreverent about Felix’s well-being, but—

Felix paled, breath catching in his throat as a shooting pain meandered up his forearm. God, that burned. _It’s a mere flesh wound,_ he tried to convince himself, _it isn’t anything major to fuss over._ Perhaps it had come from the debris tornado the shadow had whipped up; maybe he was careless and had gotten himself gouged by one of the branches whirling about. But then, when he considered the possibilities, it could be something worse. And besides, his curiosity was eating away at him; he couldn’t stand not knowing for sure what the verdict was. 

With an inaudible sigh, he flicked his gaze down to the torn flesh. Thank god that Pan was looking away, otherwise he might’ve caught the aghast expression flashing over Felix’s face. Those snaking black lines and already-purulent appearance… It was unmistakable. 

_Dreamshade._


End file.
